It's All Just Fun & Games
by HandOfSorrow
Summary: Isabelle and Iris are hanging out at their friends summer home, and are visited by two handsome, charming, polite boys. The girls quickly learn that looks can definitely deceive, but they aren't as easy prey as the boys might think. Paul/OC, Peter/OC
1. Innocence

_Hey y'all. Still terribly sorry about the utter lack of updating on my Joker fanfic _DX _I couldn't help starting this, the idea was stuck in my head after watching Funny Games for the seventh time ._._

_Isabelle and Iris are somewhat based of my friend and I, but not too much. And I'm trying to differ from the movie plot...tell me if I did a good job or not, please _X3

* * *

Isabelle laughed and she lightly shoved her friend Iris off the dock they stood on and into the water. Iris's body made a big splash as she got submerged, but she quickly resurfaced and yelled at Isabelle.

"Bitch!" She shouted, laughing along with her friend. Isabelle stuck out her tongue and laughed again before Iris grabbed her ankle and pulled her into the water. Isabelle resurfaced and splashed water at Iris.

The two girls were staying at their friend's summer home for the last few weeks of their vacation. Their friend who was the original owner didn't come along for whatever reason, but didn't mind Iris and Isabelle going on their own. They were currently laughing and having fun in the water of the nearby bay.

Isabelle swam back to the dock and pulled herself up, shaking her head and sending droplets of water flying this way and that out of her long hair. Iris got back onto the dock as well and took off her soaked hoodie.

"Damnit, Izzy. This is my favorite hoodie too!" She complained, smacking her friend in the arm. Izzy smirked.

"Oh, quit your bitching, it'll dry if you leave it out in the sun for a few hours," She retorted.

"But now it smells like salt water!"

"So? Use some Febreeze!"

The two bickered on their way back to the house, though it was all in good fun. The two were hardly ever _really_ mad at each other. But to an outsider, their arguments would definitely seem like a bff-breakup.

Not that the two considered each other 'bff's. The term was far to preppy for their tastes. They preferred the term 'very close enemies'.

"I'm gonna go change," Iris called as she walked up the stairs. "And I gotta pee, too."

"Didn't need to know that, thanks," Izzy called back, shaking her head and moving into the kitchen. She grabbed herself a can of Sprite and bag of chips and plopped herself onto the floor in front of the tv. The heat of the television was sure to dry her off. Not really.

She and Iris had been at the summer home for about a week, so they both knew the layout and mechanics of the house. And though they were trying not to make a mess of it, the entire first floor was a pigsty, so in order to sit on the floor, Izzy needed to move aside a few wrappers, bags and other such trash.

Clicking on the Tele, Isabelle flipped through the channels until she managed to find some old horror movie playing on the SciFi channel. It was something about killer ants, which she found hilarious.

Iris hopped back down the stairs and plopped onto the couch, "Ahh, I feel much better now!" She sighed, stealing a few chips from Izzy. "What'cha watchin'?"

"Hell if I know, some movie about killer ants, it was the best thing on," She stated, taking a gulp of her Sprite.

The two lounged around, watching TV even though it was a bright sunny day, and most 20-year-olds on vacation would be hanging out outside. Perhaps fishing, or swimming, or hell, playing soccer or something.

Izzy stretched and went to the window, staring out at the kids playing outside of the neighboring house. Even though that neighboring house was quite a ways away, and she couldn't really see the children too well.

Wait…

Izzy squinted and tried to get a better look. What she thought were kids playing tag was really two men chasing a woman. They easily caught her, and pulled her back, leading her back into the house. Izzy quirked an eyebrow. That was certainly rather unusual.

But hell, what the neighbors of the house that didn't belong to her did was none of her business.

"'Sup?" Iris asked, popping up beside Izzy, making her jump.

"Damnit, 'Iris!" She said, calming down. At her friends grin, she rolled her eyes. "Nothin', just some guys playing tag with that neighbor lady."

"Tag? Full grown men?" Iris asked.

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe it's some weird kind of foreplay."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, you crazy voyeur bitch?" Iris grinned widely at Izzy, who frowned and smacked the back of Iris's head. Iris laughed and looked back out the window as Izzy turned and moved back to the couch, where her cell phone began chiming a song from one of her favorite movies.

"Hey…one of those guys is coming over here…" Iris began, still looking out the window. Izzy looked over her shoulder at her friend, clicking her phone shut and ignoring the missed call. The battery was about to die, anyway.

"Huh? Are you sure?"

"Yeah…he's coming in the gate now," Iris looked at Izzy, her expression unusually serious.

"…What? Is he covered in blood or something?"

"He's really cute."

Izzy smacked her palm to her forehead. Why did she expect anything less from 'Iris? She moved to the nearest electrical socket and plugged in her phone charger, setting her phone on the floor

"Uhm, excuse me? Is anyone home?" Came a slightly shy voice from the screen door.

"Coming!" Iris called, practically skipping to meet the 'cute' boy.

"Hello, I'm staying with your neighbors, the Fitzpatricks?" He said. Iris eagerly opened the door.

"Ah yes, of course! Please, come in!" She grinned.

"Oh c'mon, Iris, don't pretend like you know our neighbors," Isabelle said from the living room doorway. "We don't even live here."

"Shut up, Isabelle!" Iris retorted, blushing.

"Oh…I'm sorry, maybe I have the wrong house?" The boy began, looking rather nervous.

"Oh no, you have the right house!" Iris insisted.

"Yeah, you do. But we're not the original owners, we're just friends of theirs. We're staying here for a few weeks…"

"On our own," Iris added, smiling and winking a bit. Izzy shook her head and sighed.

"Well, yes, on our own," She muttered. "Anyway, can we help you, Mr…?"

"Oh, Peter is fine," The boy said, smiling. "Uhm, Faye…I mean, Mrs. Fitzpatrick is getting ready to make dinner for some guests, and she doesn't have any eggs. She was wondering if you could help her out? She only needs three."

"Of course!" Iris chirped.

"Dinner? This early? It's only 5:30," Izzy said, quirking an eyebrow. Peter seemed a bit distressed for a moment, but he regained himself so quickly Isabelle thought she imagined it.

"Well, yes, she said it'll take a while to cook…so she's starting early," He said, laughing a bit sheepishly. "I'm not exactly sure what she's cooking, though…"

"Ah," Izzy muttered.

"Anywho! We'll be glad to help you out!" Iris said joyfully and hopped into the kitchen. Isabelle shook her head and stretched.

"Uhm…Miss?" Peter began, gaining Izzy's attention. "You'll catch a cold…in those wet clothes, that is." Isabelle felt her face heat up as she realized she was still wearing the drenched clothing she had when she fell (or, more accurately, was pulled) into the bay.

"O-oh, uhm, right, eheh, sorry," She stammered, hurrying up the stairs. "I-I'll change now, sorry,"

Izzy mentally screamed at herself. That was so embarrassing! And she was wearing a white shirt too…!!

Her face was beet red as she quickly changed out of her wet clothing and into something dry. She heard someone mutter a few profanities from downstairs, and figured she should hurry back to the two before Iris tried to seduce their guest.

As Izzy came back down the stairs, she saw Peter standing over Iris as she cleaned up a mess of broken eggs.

"I'm so sorry…really, I am…" Peter murmured.

"Oh, don't worry about it! We've got three more, I think," Iris replied, tossing the dirtied paper towels and such into the trashcan. "Just try to be more careful with these ones, 'kay?"

Peter nodded, "Yes of course. I'm sorry," He apologized again.

"It's alright, no need to get so sad about it," Izzy said, "We don't really eat eggs anyway. But our friend insisted we bring some with us, just in case."

"Ah, I see…" Peter said. Iris returned and handed him the eggs in a small bowl.

"Here, as long as you don't drop the bowl, the eggs will be fine this way," She grinned at him.

"Thank you, so much. Really, I'm sure Mrs. Fitzpatrick will really appreciate it," Peter replied, smiling back. "I'll come back to return the bowl later."

"Alright!" Iris called as Peter walked out the door. "God, that boy is so cute."

"Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants," Izzy stated, sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. "So, now what?"

"Now….we wait for him to come back," Iris replied, grinning.

"That may be a while, you know—" Isabelle stopped her sentence as the sound of something shattering came from outside. "…Or not."


	2. Instinct

The two girls looked out the screen door to see Peter and another boy standing over the broken bowl and eggs. The second boy rubbed his temples for a moment, but he didn't really seem upset. He motioned for Peter to go back. Peter looked down and turned around, walking slowly back towards the house, with the other boy following him.

"See? He's back, and he brought a friend!" Iris said

"Right…"

Peter looked up to the door and smiled apologetically. As he reached the screen door again he looked back down. "I'm sorry…I dropped the bowl…"

"Yeah, I saw…" Iris smiled back at him. "Don't worry though, it isn't ours, and it didn't seem too expensive. But I think those were our last eggs…"

"I must apologize for Peter here," The second boy said, following Peter as he entered the house. "He's really clumsy, as I'm sure you can see."

"Oh, no, it's alright, really," Iris said. "I'll go see if we have any more eggs, and I'll help you carry them over there this time, okay?"

"Okay…" Peter murmured.

Isabelle looked over the second boy. He was pretty cute…but something didn't set right. She wasn't sure what, so she decided to shrug it off.

"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" The second boy said, laughing as he noticed Izzy had been staring at him. "I'm Paul, I'm also staying with the Fitzpatricks, next door." He extended his hand, and Izzy took it after a moments hesitation.

"Isabelle," She stated. "But I guess you can call me Izzy, doesn't really matter." She took another moment to look him over, and noticed that the both of them were wearing white clothes and gloves, like they were getting ready to play golf.

"So…you guys like golf, huh?" She asked.

"Oh, well yes, we do," Paul said, smiling.

"Yes, we were going to play a game with Faye and John....I mean, Mr and Mrs Fitzpatrick, but Mr. Fitzpatrick had a bit of an accident..." Peter tried to stifle a giggle, and when he failed Paul smacked him.

"He broke his leg," Paul corrected. "And it isn't funny, Tubby. It's very rude to laugh at the pain of others!"

"Right, sorry," Peter muttered, stepping back a bit. As his foot touched the floor, there was a crunch, and all three of them looked down at his foot. Beneath his shoe was Isabelle's cell phone, now broken.

She let out a shout of despair as she fell to her knees and shoved Peter aside to get to her phone.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!" Peter said, stumbling a bit and being steadied by Paul. Iris came back into the room at the sound of Izzy's shout.

"Izzy? What happened?" She asked.

Isabelle picked up her broken cell phone and made a poor attempt to reassemble it. "He stepped my phone...!"

"I'm so, so sorry! Really, I-I didn't realize it was there..." Peter apologized profusely.

"You should watch where you fucking step!" Izzy yelled, and Peter flinched back.

"There really isn't a need for foul language," Paul stated, unphased.

"Bullshit there isn't!"

"Izzy, come on, calm down," Iris tried, "I still have my cell."

"Look, Ma'am, you don't need to curse at us. It was an accident, and it's really your fault for having your phone on the floor to begin with," Paul said, trying to act polite.

"MY fault??" Isabelle almost shouted. "Okay, look, it's YOUR dumbass friend who...!" She stopped and tried to calm herself down. "I'm not going to fucking fight with you. Just get out."

Paul chuckled a bit. "Fine, if you're so offended. Just give us what we came for."

"I-I'm sorry, we gave you the last of our eggs," Iris said, looking apologetically at the two boys, but mostly Peter.

"Yeah, so get out of here," Izzy ordered, taking a step towards them. They didn't even so much as flinch.

"You don't seem to understand," Paul said, then turned to Peter. "Tubby, close the door."

"Don't call me Tubby…"

"Fine. Just close the door."

Peter turned around and shut the door as told, making sure to lock it.

"You can't leave if the door is closed, genius," Izzy glared at them.

"Of course, that's the point," Paul replied, smiling.

"Enough with these games!" Izzy shouted, closing the space between her and the tall blond. "Get OUT!" She pressed her hands to his chest and shoved him, sending him stumbling back and hitting the door. "NOW!"

Any politeness that was in Paul's face disappeared, and he aimed his dark expression solely at Izzy.

"Shit…" Iris muttered quietly, mostly to Peter who stood beside her. "Izzy's lost it…"

"It seems so," Peter replied. "I'm sorry about this."

"Eh. So…ya think there will be blood?"

"Yeah…"

"Hate to say it, but it'll probably be Izzy's…she can't fight cute guys," Iris shrugged, and Peter nodded.

"What the hell are you chit chatting with HIM for, Iris!?" Isabelle shouted, not noticing Paul straighten and move towards her.

"Hey, just 'cause you don't like him doesn't mean I can't." Iris grinned at Peter, who smiled sheepishly back.

Isabelle opened her mouth to retort when Paul grabbed her from behind, forcing her down to her knees and grabbed both her wrists, holding them firmly behind her so she couldn't get away.

"Tom, get some tape," Paul ordered. "And make sure she doesn't get any ideas." He nodded to Iris.

"Oh no, believe me. I've seen my share of horror flicks, I know what happens when the victims struggle," Iris said, taking a step back. "So, uhm….tape, uh, in the kitchen, top right drawer." Peter nodded and smiled at her, heading off into the kitchen.

"That's good, it's easier when they don't fight back," Peter said from where he was in the next room.

"IRIS! WHAT THE HELL!?" Izzy screamed at her, regarding her helpfulness. How the hell could she be so calm!?

"Sorry, Izzy. But they're not gonna kill you…right?" She looked at Paul. He gave a one shoulder shrug. "Right. And it'd be best if we didn't try to resist…they may actually kill us then…"

"They're gonna kill us ANYWAY! Stop with the wishful thinking!!"

Peter returned and helped tape together Isabelle's wrists. Once they were successfully bound, Paul yanked her up and dragged her into the living room, pushing her onto the couch.

Isabelle glared at him, despite how scared she was. "What now, huh? Ya gonna rape me? Like you have the balls, gay boy." Paul frowned.

"It's rather rude to call someone gay," He said. "Things are easier when they're polite, don't you think?"

"…I'm bound and probably soon-to-be gagged…I think we're a bit _passed_ polite," Izzy retorted. "And it's not rude to call someone gay if they _are_ gay!"

Paul rubbed his temple for a second. "I'm not gay." He stated.

"Please! A guy as gorgeous as you can't NOT be gay!" Isabelle quieted as she realized what she just said. Paul lifted his eyebrows and chuckled a bit. Izzy blushed and mentally kicked herself. Did she _really_ just call this psycho 'gorgeous'? Sure, he was, but she was in a life-or-death situation! It was no time for flirting!

"Wait," Iris said from the other side of the room, talking to Peter, "So…you two are…?"

"Oh, no, we're not—"

"Damn, that's kinda disappointing," She continued, ignoring Peter's negative reply, "But it's also really hot!" She immediately reverted to her dirty fan-girl self. She pointed to Peter and spoke to Paul, blushing profusely, "Does he suck your—"

"M-Miss! We aren't like that!" Peter insisted, cutting off her sentence.

"It's rude to interrupt, Beavis," Paul scolded, "But no, we aren't gay. And no, he doesn't…do that."

As Iris continued to question the two supposedly gay boys about their sexual lives, Isabelle tried desperately to rip the tape binding her wrists. She sat up slowly, and her fingers brushed the strap of her purse.

As slowly and subtly as she could, she reached her bound hands into her purse and searched for a nail file or some relatively sharp object. She managed to find a pencil, and tried desperately to poke a hole in the tape.

"Hey," Paul said, grabbing the pencil from her grip and breaking the tip, tossing it aside. He grabbed her purse and set it behind the nearby loveseat. "Be good now, I don't want to hurt you."

Isabelle tried to hide her despair with a smartass comment. "Heh, and why is that? Aren't you just gonna kill me anyway?"

"Well, I don't like hurting pretty women," Paul said, smiling, once again being a proper, polite boy. Isabelle paused, blushing.

Hell. She knew she shouldn't believe whatever this creep said, but it always made her blush when someone called her pretty or something.

She sank into the couch and looked away as she muttered a quiet "Th…Thank you…" As the words left her lips, she expected her head to feel three pounds lighter, because she had clearly lost her mind.

Paul grinned and laughed. "My pleasure, m'lady. See? It's not so difficult to get along, now is it?" Izzy sank further into the couch. "So, are you going to be good and not make this harder for Tom and I?"

Izzy didn't reply, nor look at him. "Are you?" Paul asked again, and Izzy still didn't reply. He grabbed her head, though rather lightly, and shook her a bit. "Izzyyy~, are you?" He almost sang.

Isabelle jerked away from him, and muttered a quick "Fine, fine, whatever you want…"

"Awesome! Now then, Tubby, bring Miss—Iris, right?—over here," Paul instructed. Peter did as he was told, and gently sat Iris down next to Izzy on the couch.

"We're going to die…aren't we, Izzy?" Iris whispered, sounding much more afraid than she had previously.

"I wont let that happen…" Isabelle whispered in reply.

"Hey now, it's rude to whisper in the presence of guests," Paul said, quieting both girls.

"Sorry." Izzy said, clipping the word from her mouth like it hurt to say it. Paul laughed lightheartedly again.

"It's quite alright," He said. "Now…we usually don't get into the bet so early, but..." He paused for a moment, then looked at Peter. "What time is it, Peter?"

"About 5:50," He said, looking at his wristwatch.

"Okay, so in twelve hours, let's say at about 6 AM, both of you will be…" he paused for a moment, searching for the words, "…Pushing daisies. Okay?"

Iris trembled slightly, and Isabelle glared at the boys. "What kind of fucked up bet is that?!" She had to restrain herself to keep from screaming.

"Well, you bet you'll be alive in twelve hours, and we'll bet you'll be dead," Paul restated.

"I _get_ that," Izzy hissed.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's fucked up, that's the problem!"

Paul was silent, then he clicked his tongue. "You have very bad manners, Izzy."

"Don't call me Izzy…" She said through gritted teeth.

"You said earlier that calling you Izzy would be fine," Paul frowned, feigning innocent confusion.

"That was before you TIED ME UP, asshole!"

Paul was up in a matter of seconds, and he grabbed Isabelle roughly by the hair. "Look! I DON'T want to hurt you! But I definitely will if you keep testing me like this!" He roared.

Isabelle was terrified, but she refused to let it show. Instead she snarled at him and hissed "Do what you fucking want, you faggot!" before she spit in his face.

Paul wiped her saliva from his face, and quickly brought his hand back and slapped her. She let out a yelp, then kicked him in the shin. He shouted and bent over for a moment, but quickly regained himself and punched Isabelle in the gut. All the air rushed from her lungs, and she immediately stopped fighting.

"I-Izzy…!" Iris began, grabbing her friend by the shoulders.

Paul stared at her, breathing heavily. He sighed and wiped a bit of remaining spit from his face. "Too much stress…don't you think, Tubby?"

Peter, who had stood up and was now only a few steps behind Paul, nodded in agreement.

"Please," Iris began, "Stop it. Isn't there something…" She paused, and looked at Peter. "…_Something_ we can do to keep ourselves alive?"

"This…is no time…for flirting…Iris…" Izzy gasped quietly, regarding her friends obvious attempt to come on to Peter.

"Shh," Iris replied.

Paul didn't seem to notice their whispering. "Well, there're a lot of things you can do. You could call the police. Maybe a friend, or neighbor? Though you may not get an answer for that last option…" Paul smirked and laughed, looking back at Peter, who laughed with him.

Izzy glared at them for a moment, and when she gained her breath, she asked "You killed them, didn't you?"

Paul returned his gaze to her, but he didn't reply. He simply smiled at her. The bad (which is an understatement) feeling Isabelle had had about them intensified, and she felt her stomach twist in utter fear.

These two had killed a whole family…and they didn't even seem the least bit guilty…

Isabelle had no doubt that she and Iris were going to be the next to die.

"We won't stop you," Paul continued. "Really, if you want to call someone, go right ahead."

"You know damn well there's not point in giving us that privilege…" Isabelle spat. Paul smiled wider. After a moment of glaring at her captors to hide her terror, Izzy decided to make an attempt to go along with them.

"Alright…" She began, drawing in a shaky breath to keep herself calm. "We'll go along with your bet." The boys looked rather surprised by that statement. Paul opened his mouth to reply, but Isabelle wasn't finished. "But! You have to give us a fair chance."

Paul paused, and shared a look with Peter. Paul smiled again and looked back to the girls. "Heh, that's new. Alright. Let's play, then."


	3. Passion

Paul moved over to Isabelle and pulled her up gently. He turned her around and lifted her tape-bound wrists, quickly biting through the tape to let her free. When she didn't move on her own, he took hold of one of her hands and pulled the tape away. Once the tape was off, he still held her hand for a second, before letting it go and stepping back.

Isabelle slowly turned around and rubbed her wrist. "Okay…so now what?"

"Well, Izzy," Paul put a very slight emphasis on her nickname, "You can do whatever it takes to keep yourselves alive 'til the deadline."

"I'm sure there's at least something you wouldn't allow us to do…" Isabelle spoke carefully. "You wouldn't just let us…run away."

"Oh, but on the contrary, we would," Paul corrected. "Of course, we'd chase you. But we'd give you…a head start, if that would make things more fun?"

"Fun…" Isabelle hissed the word, but quickly calmed down, seeing her chance. "Alright…a head start."

Paul smirked. "Of course. Of about…one minute?"

"Two." Isabelle motioned for Iris to stand up, which she quickly did.

"Two minutes then, alright," Paul grinned and turned around. "Cover your eyes Tubby. Cheating isn't allowed." Peter covered his eyes, laughing a bit.

"One…Two…" Paul started counting, and Isabelle slowly crept off, pulling Iris along with her up the stairs. Once they were safely up and out of earshot, Isabelle looked around.

"Alright, you sneak out one way or another, I'll stay here and keep them from going anywhere," Izzy whispered.

"Hell no, I'm not leaving!" Iris whispered back.

"Yes you are, get out of here!" Isabelle almost hissed. Iris frowned but gave in and began to sneak away. Before she moved into a nearby room, however, she turned around.

"What are you going to do?"

"Whatever I have to. Don't worry, I'll keep my hands off Peter."

Iris grinned and left. Izzy had to grit her teeth to keep from sighing. Leave it to Iris to not drop her admiration of a guy even if he's a serial killer.

"Izzy! Iris!" Paul called from down stairs.

"Ready or not!" Peter called also.

"Shit! What is this, some sort of fucked up version of hide and seek!" Izzy whispered to herself, quickly moving into one of the nearby bedrooms.

She would have to occupy at least one of them…and she hated to think about it, but there was only one real way she could come up with…

She definitely wasn't strong against guys, at least not when she was so scared. She couldn't fight him off, even though it definitely hurt her pride to admit.

So…the only other thing she could think of would be…

She glanced at the bed in front of her.

…Shit.

She heard someone coming up the stairs, and quickly ducked behind the door.

"Izzy? Are you up here?" She heard Paul's voice just outside the door. She tensed and her heart sped up, but she forced herself to be silent as he slowly entered the room, looking around.

_You can do this, Izzy...it's to save Iris, so it's okay..._

Once he was passed the door, Izzy swallowed hard and pushed it closed. When the lock clicked, Paul spun around.

"Ah, so you were here," He said carefully. "I expected you to run away."

Izzy swallowed again, then forced herself to speak. "Yeah…I expected to run away too…"

Paul smirked. "So why didn't you?"

Isabelle tried to look seductive and hot, but was fairly sure she failed. She took a few slow steps toward him, while her mind screamed at her that she was insane. Paul frowned a bit.

"What's wrong?" Izzy asked, pausing as her voice cracked and not answering his question. "No man has ever looked so scared when a woman like me is at their mercy."

Good god, she really had lost her mind.

"Heh, well forgive me if I'm being rude, but I don't believe any woman has done much more than run from me when in that position." Paul replied.

"Well of course, you go about it all wrong," Isabelle stopped just a few steps in front of him. She felt a sudden wave of raw horror, and knew immediately that she couldn't do it. "Of course…a man who isn't _interested_ in women wouldn't really know how to go about it…"

Paul frowned more and rubbed his temples. "I'm not gay." He clipped the words off, almost angrily.

Izzy knew she'd break him eventually…and he'd probably kill her then and there. But at least it'd be a distraction. "Ya certainly seem it…with your _lover_ boy down there—"

Paul grabbed her hair, cutting off her sentence. "You just don't learn your lesson! Keep testing me like this and I WILL hurt you!"

Isabelle gritted her teeth, and glared at him. "Then go ahead! Do it! Kill me! What are you waiting for anyway, huh!" She blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears of fear and pain that began to well up.

Paul scowled at her, but did little else. There was silence in the air for a moment, and then he did something Izzy didn't expect.

He kissed her.

Isabelle felt her stomach leap, twist and then sink into the bottom of her gut. Her immediate reaction was to try and push him away, but his hands clamped around her to keep her from moving. One of his hands slowly released her hair and firmly held the back of her neck, and the other held tightly to her waist.

Then, he let her go as quickly as he grabbed her. She stumbled back and hit the door, freezing immediately and staring at him. Paul brushed a bit of hair from his face and laughed a bit.

"Sorry, that was pretty rude of me just now, wasn't it?" He asked, "Kissing a lady without her permission. Shame on me."

Isabelle frowned at him, but didn't say anything. Her heart was beating too fast to let her catch her breath. Paul quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "I hope you don't still have any plans on trying to get rid of me. You should focus on Miss Iris. I'm sure Peter has caught her by now…"

That snapped Izzy back to reality. "What did you do to her?"

Paul smiled. "Well, nothing, of course. At least, _I_ didn't do anything. I've been here the whole time." Isabelle spun around and pulled at the doorknob, trying to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. She heard Paul walking over to her, and tried harder to open it.

Isabelle realized that she had locked the door earlier, and wanted to kick herself. She quickly unlatched the lock and yanked open the door, but just as she was going to run away, Paul grabbed her from behind. Izzy let out a scream and struggled as hard as she could, but he wouldn't let her go.

_Shit! Damnit, I can't let this happen again…!_ She thought, beginning to give in to her tears.


	4. Hopeless

_I'm infinitely sorry about the extremely long wait. I had this chapter almost fully written out a long time ago, but when my computer got a virus (again) i lost all motivation...i'm sure it's not worth the wait, but here it is anyway!_

* * *

Isabelle kicked and flailed, managing to get Paul's grip on her loose enough for her to connect her elbow with his temple. He shouted and fell backwards, holding his head in pain. Izzy ran as fast as her legs would carry her to the stairs, so she only barely saw Iris standing outside through the window. She stopped and nearly toppled over, before leaning out the window and screaming.

"Iris! What the hell are you still doing here! Run, god damnit!" Iris stopped and looked up at her friend, not noticing Peter calmly walking up behind her. Izzy screamed again, but it was too late to warn her, as Peter had already grabbed Iris and began to drag her away. Izzy turned towards the stairs, ready to run down them and try to help Iris, but before she could even touch the next step, Paul grabbed her arm and swung her around. She struggled and fought, digging her nails into his arms and shoulders until he lost his grip. Unfortunately, however, Izzy fell backwards and tumbled down the stairs, hitting the first floor hard.

She groaned and attempted to open her eyes, but all she saw was a mix of colors swimming together. He ears were ringing too, so she couldn't hear Paul descending the stairs and coming closer to her. She struggled to roll over and slowly tried to crawl away, but didn't manage to get very far before Paul stepped in front of her path. She groaned again and grabbed his ankles, pulling on them in an attempt to either knock him over or propel herself forward. Paul chuckled and pulled her up by the underarms, gently lugging her over to the couch and setting her down.

Izzy's head still swam, but she could see better now, so when Paul knelt down in front of her, she could see the amused smirk on his face. Her expression twisted in despair, and she threw her arm out to hit him, but the most she could do was give him a light slap to the face. His head turned to the side from it, but it obviously didn't hurt, as he turned back and laughed. Izzy twitched as he extended his hand, but instead of hurting her, he patted her shoulder.

"That's the spirit, Izzy!" He grinned, sitting beside her on the couch and crossing his legs. "Now we're getting somewhere, hm?"

Izzy lowered her head and didn't reply, but instead thought about what she could possibly do to save herself and Iris. She could think of nothing. She sighed in defeat, there was no avoiding it. They were both as good as dead.

"Just kill me, would you?" She whispered. "I'm sick of this…"

Paul lifted his eyebrows at her with a slightly surprised look. "Now, Izzy, that wouldn't be very fun, would it? You've still got plenty of time to survive."

"You and I both know I won't live through this," She replied, glaring at her knees.

"…I don't like this new attitude of yours, Isabelle. I liked you better when you fought back," Paul folded his arms and frowned at her, but she didn't notice.

"Who cares about whether you like me or not?" This time she lifted her head and directed her seemingly permanent glare at him. He paused, as if wondering whether he should reply or not. After a short while, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, I—"

The door opened, cutting his words short, and in walked Peter, pushing Iris in front of him. "Caught her," He said to Paul, who nodded approvingly.

Izzy sat up and looked at her captured friend. "Iris…" she muttered. "You okay?" Iris nodded and sat beside her on the couch.

"What about you? You look in pretty bad shape…you have a big bump on your head." She muttered looking at the place where Izzy's head had hit the floor. Izzy reached her hand up and touched the bump, immediately wincing at the pain it sent pulsing through her head.

"Ow…its not that bad, just had a little fall," She said, trying not to let on how much it really hurt, but Iris didn't seem convinced.

"Don't worry, Miss Iris, Izzy is alright, I promise," Paul said with a smile that disgusted Izzy. "I can't let you get hurt _too_ badly just yet, right?"

"Oh, enough with this bullshit…" Hissed Izzy as she forced herself to sit up, trying her best to force back the pain in her head.

"That sounds familiar," Peter chuckled.

"I'm tired of this fucked up game of yours, and I'm _done_ playing!" Isabelle gave her captors a look of pure hatred, "If you're going to kill me, do it now, or I'll do it for you."

"Izzy…!" Iris said frantically, but Izzy didn't care.

"Be quite, Iris, I'm serious."

Paul raised his eyebrows momentarily before knitting them together. "You aren't the one in charge here, Isabelle. I was hoping you knew that by now."

"Yeah, well you hoped wrong, asshole," Izzy crossed her arms, leaned back and said no more. Paul stayed silent for a short while, considering what to do. He then leaned over to Peter and whispered a few words in his ear. Peter nodded, and Paul spoke to Izzy once more.

"We'll have to teach you who runs the show, then, it seems," He motioned to Peter, who quickly approached Iris and yanked her to her feet. Iris didn't fight too hard until Peter began dragging her to the kitchen.

"W-wait! Where are you taking her!" Izzy shot up and raced to grab her friend, but Paul caught her. She struggled against his hold to no avail; he was too strong this time.

"Consider this your punishment for trying to change the rules," Paul said into her ear. Isabelle could feel tears welling in her eyes as the kitchen door slammed shut, and Iris began to scream.

"N-no! Iris! Iris! Let me go, goddamn you! If you hurt her, I swear to god I'll tear you to pieces! Iris!" Izzy screamed, still hopelessly struggling against Paul's grip. He scoffed and drove his fist into her stomach for the second time, sending her to her knees on the floor. It didn't take too long for Iris to stop screaming.

"Iris…" Izzy gasped, shakily looking up at the still closed door. Paul frowned.

"It's such a shame…" He said, "Things were going so well, Izzy. I'm disappointed." Izzy looked at him in rage.

"_**Who the fuck cares**_!" She practically screamed, "Look, if you're disappointed then just fucking kill me and go to the next house! If you think I'm suddenly going to fight back now that you've killed my best friend, you're wrong!" Her tears were nearly blinding her now, but she didn't care. She would cry her tear ducts dry if it would get this torture over with.

Paul heaved a very heavy sigh of agitation. "Peter," He called, "You can come out now." There were a few footsteps, but other than that, no reply. Paul waited a moment, then called again, "Peter!" There were a few more seconds of silence before the door opened, and Peter stepped out, his face tinged pink. Iris followed behind him sheepishly, smiling an apology at Isabelle, whose face held a flabbergasted expression.

"I…Iris…?" She stammered in confusion. "Y…you're okay…but…that screaming…?"

"I'm sorry," Iris said, "He just told me to scream, so I…" She looked down at her feet, "I thought maybe, if I just did what he said, we wouldn't get hurt…wait, Izzy, are you really crying? Aww!" Isabelle jolted and wiped her eyes frantically as her friend hugged and nuzzled her. "I love you too, Izzy~!"

"Iris…! T-this isn't the time…killers…g-get off!"

Paul quirked his eyebrow at the scene before turning to Peter. "What took you so long to open the door, Tubby? You and Miss Iris weren't doing anything questionable, were you?"

Peter glanced around nervously, "She, uhm…" He looked at Paul, who lifted his eyebrows, prodding him to continue, "She kissed me," Peter murmured. Iris stopped nuzzling Izzy and drew away awkwardly. Izzy, however, glared daggers at her.

"Iris, if we survive this, I swear, I'm going to slap you _so_ many times." She warned, angrily.

"B-but why?" Iris looked at Izzy like a hurt puppy, with wide eyes feigning innocence.

"Because you're fucking insane, that's why!"

"Izzy, Izzy, please," Paul said, trying to break up the argument about to begin, "There is no need for foul language or yelling." He crossed his arms, "Please, tone it down."

Izzy turned her glare to Paul, "You! You fucking tricked me!" Paul sighed again at her foul language.

"It was your punishment," He stated as if she should have known, "I'm honestly surprised you didn't know earlier that I wouldn't kill you yet. You're too much fun!" He laughed, but his face contorted into a look of evil too quickly for Izzy to comprehend. "But now, we need to play another game." His lips still held that polite smile, but his eyes and voice were cold and cruel.

The mood in the air turned dark within seconds and Isabelle found herself trembling once again. Iris scooted a bit closer to her friend, and Izzy noticed that Iris was also shaking.

"What game should we play this time, Beavis?" Paul asked cheerfully to Peter, who twirled a knife neither of the girls realized he had gotten.

"Hmm…I'm not sure," He said thoughtfully. The boys looked at each other, then at the girls.

"How about…hm…Friend or Foe?" Paul smirked, and Peter nodded in approval.

"W…What…" Izzy asked fearfully, reaching out and gripping Iris' arm protectively.

"Its very simple," Paul grinned, and before either of the girls could get away, the boys had yanked them up and forced them over the table with their hands behind their backs. "Now, stay like this."

Izzy's heart pounded in her chest, fearing the worst would come of this position. In her head, she could hear the rustling of clothing being taken off, the cackles of the men as they loomed over their victims, the searing pain that they'd both feel within seconds of their pants being taken…

"Now, I want the two of you to think of a number between one and ten. If that number is above five, the one choosing that number will be hurt. However, if you choose a number below five, the other will be hurt." Izzy found herself relaxing for a moment, relieved neither of them were going to be raped. "For each strike against you, you will lose one finger. Okay?" And as soon as it came, Izzy's relief disappeared.

"W-wait…!" She cried.

"Now, Izzy, what couldn't you understand?" Paul said, frowning. "All you have to do is choose a number higher than five, and take the pain for your friend. _If _you're really her friend, that is."

"What if we both choose a number above five…?" Iris asked, trying to look at him over her shoulder, but Peter pushed her head back down.

Paul seemed to think about this for a while. "Well, for all your good behavior, maybe I'll let you both off unharmed…once or twice," He smirked, and Iris trembled again. "Sound good?" He didn't wait for anyone to reply before taking the knife from Peter. "Okay! Now, when I get to one, I want you to put up the number of fingers for your chosen number. Three…" Izzy could see Iris tense up, and furrow her eyebrows together in thought.

"Iris…?" Izzy whispered, but she spoke too loudly.

"Hey, no cheating!" Said Paul, sliding the tip of the knife across the table. "I don't want to have to hurt you before the game even starts." Izzy bit her tongue and squeezed her eyes shut as Paul began counting again, "Two…" He lifted the knife up high, but just as he was about to finish counting, Iris leaped off the table and tackled him to the ground, managing to kick Peter in the chest as she did. Izzy flipped herself over and stared at the scuffle in shock

"Iris! What are you doing!" She shouted. Iris looked at her for no more than a second before she had to continue fighting against Paul.

"Izzy, get out of here!" She screamed, hitting Paul in the jaw. "Run! **Now**!" Isabelle stared at her friend, unaware that she could look so angry.

"What? No! I'm not—"

"_**GO!**_"

Izzy stumbled back and ran towards the door without even realizing it, pulling on the doorknob as the sounds of the scuffle in the other room intensified. As she unlocked the door and yanked it open, her broken phone on the ground caught her eye. It was still in a few pieces, but she snatched them up anyway and bolted out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

But, knowing Iris was still inside, she didn't run far, in fact she only ran around to the back side of the house and ducked into an extremely thick hedge. She and Iris had joked a few days before that the hedge was so thick they could hide a corpse in there and no one would even notice it until it began to stink. Izzy assumed it would make a good enough hiding place for the time being.

She crawled to the back of the hedge and leaned against the side of the house, gasping heavily and clutching her broken phone to her chest. She felt horrible about leaving Iris in there with those psychopaths, but…she couldn't even control herself. Seeing Iris _that_ angry, and telling her to run…she just had to. She could only pray they didn't kill her.

Once she caught her breath and calmed down, Izzy examined her phone. The part that covered the keypad was off and in two pieces, the screen was badly cracked, and almost snapped off of the keypad, but it seemed to still be at least somewhat intact. Izzy pressed a few buttons, praying under her breath, and almost cried with joy when the familiar start-up chime played. The screen was lit up, but it didn't show anything but white. Not that it mattered, she had had this phone long enough that she knew how to work it…and all she needed to do was make a call. She dialed 911 frantically and pressed the speaker to her ear, still restraining tears of happiness as the dial tone rang.

It took two rings before a woman picked up. "911 operator, what's your emergency?"

"I need help!" Isabelle whispered quickly. "My friend and I…we're on the harbor, there are two men in our house...they're trying to kill us! The address is 1650 West Avenue—"

"Hello?" said the operator. "Are you there?" Izzy stopped dead, fearing the worst. She spoke a bit louder, praying that the speaker wasn't broken.

"W…We're going to be killed…please, help us! 1650…" _Please hear me…_

"If you fail to respond, I will disconnect." _This can't be happening…_

"Can't you hear me?" Izzy was restraining from screaming now, on the verge of crying as she smacked the phone's receiver. The operator repeated herself.

"If you fail to respond, I will disconnect," She said. Izzy punched the ground and shouted into the phone.

"Help us!" She cried as the call was ended. All she could hear now was the dial tone. She crumpled into a ball and sobbed into the dirt. What else could she do? She had no idea where Iris had her cell, and with her screen broken, she couldn't text anyone to call for help for her.

She had lost all hope.

She heard footsteps emerging from around the house


	5. Trauma

She heard footsteps emerging from around the house, and an all too familiar voice calling for her. "Isabelle? Are you out here?"

It was Peter. This only gave Izzy a small amount of relief, seeing as he was the slightly more gentle of the two boys, but she still shrunk backwards against the house and bit her lip to silence her sobs. His footsteps grew closer, and it wasn't more than a few seconds later when Izzy could see his shoes. He walked along the length of the bush and stopped, directly in front of her. "I could hear you shouting a second ago. You should really be more quiet when you're hiding."

He kneeled down and looked under the foliage, immediately seeing Izzy, curled into a ball with both hands over her mouth. She squeaked as his eyes made contact with hers.

He grinned, "I found you."

Isabelle chucked her phone at him, which missed his head by a good three inches, and tried to scramble away. She was forced to a stop when Peter grabbed her ankle and yanked her from beneath the bush with surprising strength. She couldn't blame Iris (as much) for not being able to escape.

Peter pulled Izzy to her feet and restrained her hands, ceasing all her struggling. "You know, Peter is really angry with you." He said, like she was a child who had angered her father. "He already punished Miss Iris, but—"

"What the fuck did you do to her?" She shouted for the second time. She valued her friend's life more than her own, so it was only natural.

Peter shook his head. "Like I said, Paul is the one who punished her." Like that made a difference, "Don't worry, she's still alive. Just a bit bruised, is all."

Isabelle growled, but allowed Peter to lead her back into the house. She wasn't going to leave Iris behind.

As soon as the two of them reentered the living room, Isabelle could see just how much of a fight Iris had put up. Besides the bruises on both her and Paul's face (now that she noticed, she saw that Peter had a few light bruises, as well) there was a broken lamp laying behind the couch, and the coffee table had been flipped onto it's side.

Her attention was drawn to Paul as he barked an order at Peter, "Let her go, Tubby." His voice was drenched in malice, and it made her blood run cold. She almost didn't want Peter to let her go and leave her to the mercy of this angry dragon.

But, Peter did as he was told, and backed away as Paul stomped towards her. Within milliseconds, his hands were gripping Isabelle's throat, and squeezing the life out of her lungs.

"I'm getting **so** sick and tired of you," He hissed, his face at an uncomfortably close distance from hers. "It was fun before, but now it's just _tedious_."

Izzy choked and gasped, clawing weakly at Pauls strong arms. How the hell could a scrawny boy like him be so damn powerful?

She begged in quiet whimpers, unable to really speak, and darted her blurry eyes around for something or someone to save her. She wasn't surprised to find nothing.

Izzy was shocked—even in her weak and breathless state—to feel Paul's lips brushing against hers, ever so slightly. It was the second time it had happened, and old feelings were starting to bubble back up, making her entire body quiver in fear.

Peter and Iris probably couldn't even see the kiss from where they were, and as soon as it happened, Paul shoved Izzy away, forcing her to fall onto her back on the floor. She yelped, gasped, wheezed, amazed that she was still alive. She expected him to crush her windpipe under the amazing force of his chokehold.

Paul scowled and spit blood onto the floor, the liquid seeming to have come from a particularly large cut on his lip. Izzy could taste the metallic bitterness on her lips.

"You two are certainly lucky that I'm so nice," His voice was frigid, and so was his smile. "I won't kill you just yet. One more chance, understand?" He glared at Isabelle, then Iris, and nodded. "Good. Izzy, go join Iris on the couch." Izzy didn't comply at first, so Paul barked the order again, snarling in impatience. She quickly did as she was told, then.

For the first time, Izzy got a good look at Iris. Her eye was purple and swollen, as was a portion of her jaw. There were bruises on her neck in the shape of hands. Her nose was bleeding, maybe broken.

"Iris..." She muttered, touching her friend's arm. Iris flinched. "It's me, it's Izzy. Don't worry…you're gonna be alright." It was probably a lie, but Izzy wasn't under oath.

"Oh, Izzy," Paul laughed, apparently having heard her, "Your faith is so…childish." The word bit into Isabelle like a rabid wolf.

"Fuck off! I don't give a shit what you say, if Iris needs help I'm—"

Her shouting came to a halt as Paul slapped her across the face.

"Shut your mouth." He hissed, his voice completely void of emotion. "I'm not allowing backtalk anymore. I'm in charge, remember?" Izzy was reeling from the slap, so she didn't reply. Paul gripped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye, as if trying to get a reaction out of her.

Izzy realized how pissed off he was now. His eyes were filled with so much animosity; they might as well have had an erupting volcano in them. It was odd…out of all the things Paul could do to her at that moment, Izzy was most afraid of him kissing her again.

She fell back as he let her go.

"You know what, Beavis?" He asked Peter, who lifted his head, signaling that he was listening. "I'm bored of these toys. Aren't you?"

Peter paused to consider, but nodded anyway. "My chest still hurts. I think they've been naughty to their masters."

Izzy was honestly surprised to hear a sentence like that from Peter. Usually he stood back and let Paul do all the antagonizing, but this time…maybe Iris had really pissed him off when she fought back.

"And you know what happens to naughty playthings." Paul sneered. "They get broken."

Izzy flung herself over Iris, holding her protectively, and knowing what was coming next. She heard Iris whimpering quietly, so quietly it was barely audible. They were both petrified.

"She won't save you." Paul said, clutching Izzy's arm and yanking her up, away from her friend. "And you can't save her."

"N-no…!" Isabelle was too scared to really shout or fight back, but she still reached weakly out to Iris, who barely reached back.

Paul grabbed her hair and pulled sharply, ripping a large amount out in his fist. She yelped in pain.

"Peter, I've got an idea." Paul said, restraining Izzy from fighting anymore. "Why don't you take Miss Iris out into the dining room? Close the door behind you." Peter looked at him, his expression only slightly confused, but he still pulled Iris to her feet. "I give you permission to do whatever you like, as long as you don't kill her just yet."

"I…Izzy…" Iris whimpered as Peter began to drag her away. Izzy reached her hand out, crying, but not saying anything, afraid of what would happen. She wondered how she could have been so strong such a short time before.

"Now, now," Paul pushed Izzy onto the couch, replacing the coffee table in front of it and sitting on it. As soon as the door closed and Peter and Iris were gone, he locked his cruel blue eyes onto her. He seemed to be scanning her demeanor, analyzing her every breath. His lips were curled up ever so slightly—the cut was still bleeding—and his eyes were traveling up and down. She sank as far back into the couch as she could. His expression was giving her a horrible feeling of déjà vu that she didn't want to experience.

"I like you a lot better when you're scared like this," Paul said, smirking cruelly. Izzy still couldn't believe how much more evil he became in such a small amount of time. His eyes had been cold before, but nowhere near as icy and empty as they were now.

It terrified Izzy even more when she saw the very faint glimmer of lust in those penetrating blue eyes.

"What are you going to do?" She muttered, looking away from him. She steeled her voice the best she could, but she still failed at hiding her fear.

Paul let out a low cackle. "Nothing that hasn't happened to you before."

Izzy's entire body froze. Her thoughts spun frantically in her head. _He couldn't mean _that_, Isabelle, calm down. No one except Iris knows about that, and even then…_

"You didn't even tell Miss Iris the entire story, right?" Paul was grinning a cat's smile at her, knowing full well that his knowledge was killing her. "About what he did to you. Sure, he may be in jail now, but you still have nightmares every so often, don't you? Nightmares about every little touch for were forced to suffer through. Reliving it over and over as soon as you close your eyes—"

"Stop it!" Izzy finally grew the strength to shout the words she had been whimpering as he spoke. She trembled like a leaf in the wind as she looked up at him.

"How the hell…do you know about that?" She whispered, looking away as soon as she met his eyes. She couldn't stand to look at that monster. Ever since that second kiss, all she could see was…_him_.

Paul laughed again. "Don't worry, _Izzy_—" Isabelle flinched, _he_ said her name that way too. "—I'm not some sort of mind reader. This was poking out of your bag, back when we played Hide & Seek, remember? I just took a little peek."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, red plaid notebook. The pattern on the front was rather cute, with its mixture of dark red and gold and black. Izzy remembered thinking that when she first saw it in that bargain store however long ago.

It took her a moment to fully realize the notebook was hers, and to remember what she had written inside.

She leaped at him, reaching for the notebook with her frantically shaking hands. Paul moved too fast for her, and tossed the notebook aside before she could get it. He grabbed hold of her forearms as she was still tumbling towards him, and pushed her back, pinning her on the couch, with her arms above her head and one of her legs hanging off the side of the cushions.

Izzy started to panic. This was far, _far_ too familiar for her.

She had just started to recover. She had just started to get her happy life back. She had just managed to keep that bastard out of her head when she was alone. She had just gotten better.

The more she stared at that cruel and sadistic, yet beautiful, face, the more she saw of _him_. The more she thought about what he did to her and how close she had gotten to forgetting.

Suddenly, she wasn't scared. She was angry.

Tears of hot rage poured from her puffy eyes as she looked up at Paul. Her teeth clenched into a scowl of hatred, and she dug her fingernails into her own palm so hard the skin tore. Paul looked vaguely surprised at the sudden switch in mood.

"Is something wrong?" There was his polite boy voice again. It made Izzy sick to hear.

"Do you get off on this?" She hissed. "Does it make you feel good about yourself, tearing apart the lives of innocent people? Does it make you feel like more of a man?" Paul raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't reply. "Well? Why the _hell_ would someone do this to someone else?"

Paul laughed at that. "Well, Izzy, why do _you_ watch TV? Why do you play video games? Why do you spend your time gossiping about celebrities and their personal business?" Izzy scowled. She wasn't even one of those girls who talks about celebrities. He was such a sexist.

She answered anyway. "For…fun…"

"Ding-ding!" Izzy flinched at his sudden imitation of a game buzzer. What the hell was _wrong_ with him? How bipolar could a guy be? "That is correct. Doing stuff like this is so much fun. Why, aren't you having fun?" The smirk on his lips signaled that he knew full well that she wasn't.

She looked away, ignoring the tears she was still crying. "I guess you want me to scream…or sob…or beg you to stop…or something…am I right?" Paul chuckled again, but didn't reply. "Well go ahead…I'm not going to give you what you want. Never, so just get it over with."

She had her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She was so much more scared than she was trying to be, but she hoped that if she acted strong, he'd stop and do something else, anything else. Izzy realized how wrong she was when she felt his tongue slither along her neck.

"Let's see how much you can really take, then."

It took everything she had not to squeak in horror. She lay there, not moving an inch—except for her chest, which she had to force to rise and fall at a normal pace—as one of Paul's hands traveled along her body. She prayed he was only doing this to bring back her trauma.

Izzy opened her eyes and stared out the window. She occupied herself with trying to count the leaves on the tree only a few feet from it. She had forced herself as far as 17 before the leaves blurred together and her mind was brought back to the current situation. By this point, Paul had left a few marks along Izzy's collar, and his fingernails were scratching along the skin just below her breasts.

She couldn't take much more. Her heart was racing so fast that she could barely breathe, and she was sure Paul could feel her trembling anyway.

It was at that moment that Izzy saw the knife lying on the ground, beneath the coffee table. It was the knife that Paul had planned to use for his 'Friend or Foe' game earlier, before Iris had tackled him down. Izzy wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it there—maybe his rage had kept him from noticing, or maybe he left it there on purpose. She didn't know, and she didn't care. If she could get that knife…

Her mind skidded to a halt as Paul groped her breast, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. He cackled into her ear, "You're doing pretty well, Izzy. Just hold out a little longer…"

Izzy couldn't take anymore, and with strength that surprised both of them, she broke free and shoved Paul off of her. He tumbled off of the couch, and Izzy leaped over him, snatching up the knife with her shaky hands and pointing it directly at Paul.

He stood up, groaning in irritation and pain. Once he noticed the blade in her hand, he froze. For a moment, Izzy thought he might have been scared, until he started laughing. He laughed so hard, Izzy was concerned that a bucket was about to fall on her or something. She had no idea what could make him laugh so hysterically.

Finally, he calmed down, pressing his palm against his forehead and pushing aside his blonde bangs. "Forget what I said earlier," He said, grinning. "You are still _so_ amusing. This is the most fun I've had in a long time!"

Izzy trembled—the knife made her hands feel sweaty, she almost expected to look down and see blood on it—and stared at him with the strongest glare she could muster.

"Stop acting like I'm not a threat!" She cried, "I could…I-I could slit your throat, right now!" This made Paul laugh even harder.

"Oh, Izzy!" He gasped, covering his mouth and trying to calm down. He took a moment, stopping his laughter and taking a deep breath before continuing. "You wouldn't dare. In fact, you _couldn't_. You're too nice of a girl. You couldn't even scratch you-know-who when given the chance."

Izzy trembled harder, and without giving herself a chance to even think, she leapt at him. He smirked and went to catch her, but his shoe got caught on the rug, and in a moment of distraction, Izzy collided with him, slitting his upper arm open with the knife. He was right; she couldn't stand to aim for his chest.

He shouted as he hit the floor, with Izzy landing on top of him. Her momentum sent her tumbling further ahead, landing on her back, and hitting her head on the hardwood floor for the second time that day. She groaned, reaching for the knife that had skidded out of her hand and a few feet away. She moved to roll onto her side, but before she got far, Paul's hands clamped onto her throat, and his legs straddled her stomach. She coughed, struggling the best she could, digging her nails into his wrists. Her adrenaline wouldn't last long, and if it ran out, she was as good as dead (not that she wasn't already). She had to do something _now_.

But what the fuck could she do?


End file.
